heart of the home

We had another plumbing emergency last week.

Around 7:30 Wednesday evening, Handsome wandered into the pantry to get some animals crackers for Klaus and discovered standing water and dripping wet shelves. A water pipe behind the kitchen pantry wall, and actually behind the built in cabinets surrounding the refrigerator, which makes it much worse, busted and leaked water all over our well stocked dry goods, cast iron skillet collection, large countertop appliances being stored there. All over the walls, all over the floor.

It is, unfortunately, a familiar sight. We have expereinced this a handful of times now, in different parts of the house, so we knew exactly what to do and jumped right to it, with maybe some snarling and groaning and WHY WHY WHY thrown in for good measure. Are you familiar with the scientific study which found that some gentle cursing helps alleviate physical pain? I think this also applies to plumbing emergencies.

My cute guy provided all the brain power for discerning the needed repairs, then he swiftly and patiently made those repairs. Cleanup and reordering the kitchen is my responsibility, which I am always happy to shoulder. That night the kitchen was sucked dry of standing water, and all the broken sheetrock was removed. The fridge was even wheeled back into place only after the floor there got rubbed to (almost) true white. But, truly exhausted, we surrendered at that point and went to bed with the shockingly voluminous contents of our tightly packed pantry strewn all over the dining room table and limited countertop space in the kitchen. It was a wild sight. Like a small grocery store had exploded in a very small space.

The next morning when I stepped into the cold, blue-black kitchen for coffee, it was all still waiting to be reordered. Piles and stacks of kitchen contents, all shadowy and chaotic and, in some places, still damp. The pantry mostly empty, yawning and awkward and asking me if, while we’re at it, should we paint?

(No. We should not paint.)

I actually kind of love jobs like this. I love rehabbing overgrown gardens, and I love a good, vicious decluttering job. In fact my early November task list was already headlined by “audit and deep clean kitchen,” in order to be ready for Thanksgiving. This was perfect timing. (Hey please nobody tell my husband I was glad it happened. Thanks.)

Okay here is the real story:

During those first hours that next morning, when the kitchen was repaired but in utter disarray, I could not focus on much else. I did all the basic farm chores first thing, but the state of the kitchen was preoccupying me. Although neither of us needed a full meal yet, nor were we expecting any guests, it was unsettling. I can tolerate lots of things undone, but not an unmade bed and certainly not an insane kitchen.

The kitchen is the heart of the home, after all, and when your heart is our of order or in disrepair, or even when it is not clean and refreshed, all other systems are at risk. Nothing else feels quite calm and safe to me when the kitchen is wonky.

So I spent several hours getting it just right. And it was great. Better in a dozen ways than before the mess, even. Every surface got scubbed. Every ingredient got inventoried and replaced to fresh new food bins. Every applaince got a once over and a tidy new spot. I refolded the ten thousand kitchen towels we have apparently accumulated, and I made long overdue decisions about mismatched napkin sets. By the time Handsome was headed home, I could cook dinner like I was playing in a new playground. And I relished the sensation of openness it all created inside me.

Now that our small, cozy kitchen is back in order, clean and shining and restocked, I feel equally compelled to make sure my heart is in order. As much as I want to feed our family a gorgeous Thanksgiving feast in less than three weeks, and then host many fun little Christmas parties after that, I mostly want to be healthy and soft and strong, reordered in my bones and in my soul, to serve my loved ones a good emotional feast, too.

I have gotten it wrong plenty over the years. In ways I did not mean to, in ways I was not aware of at the time, because I was focused on the wrong details. The wrong themes in general. I have been in phases where I focused more on table settings than repairing relationships. I have focused more on the dessert table than on speaking sweetly, or thinking sweetly. I have sometimes focused more on making sure we cook enough for everyone to have leftovers than on making sure we have an abundance of quality time with each other.

None of these hostessing priorities are bad, but they are not the most precious things. When I get them out of order, people feel it.

Something cool God is showing me is that it does not have to be one or the other.

We actually can offer each other both a beautiful table and a feast for connection. We can deepen and enrich relationships while we plan and cook and share traditional foods. We can enjoy the dessert table and pretty centerpieces and we can speak sweetly.

It is all available. It is all part of the best feast.

How wonderful that time and grace have afforded us year after to year to improve. How magical that our family contiues to gather, however many people we add to this lucky roster, however busy our separate lives are, however much grief or stress we are feeling. We gather. And we need a good kitchen and lots of good hearts.

A kitchen that has been cleaned and organized, well stocked and prepared, can feed an army beautifully. A heart that has been filled with truth and good messages, that makes an effort to scrub out bitterness and ego, a heart that is full of the best gifts, can then share the best gifts while serving the best food.

While my kitchen is almost ready for Thanksgiving, my heart could used some attention, and I am so grateful for the time and appetite to do it!

“I cleansed the mirror of my heart,
now it reflects the moon.”
~Renseki